Before the West was Won
by Hard-headed-woman
Summary: The war in Korea has begun, and with the realization that there will be more wounded than expected, it has been decided that there will be extra surgeons sent to each MASH unit within a certain distance. How will a newly formed 4077 handle a wild card as it gets thrown into their deck? Slash H/T.
1. Chapter 1

MASH 4077, South Korea.

He had read the letter more times than he dared to count, but as he stared down at that one line he found that no matter how hard he tried, the letters did not change. Sighing mournfully, young, unscarred hands stuffed the already crumpled piece of paper into the breast pocket of his brand new officer's jacket, as bright blue eyes gazed out over the live stock and supplies sharing the cargo compartment in the rickety old plane.

This was nothing like the one place he ached to be; and as he took in the crate labelled 'staples', and the goat chewing on hay, he couldn't help but realise that were he was heading would be nothing like it either. Running a hand through his easily ruffled hair, Doctor Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce thought back to the moment he received the letter, and the way that his entire world fell to pieces as each line dug him deeper into the service of the United States Army.

His Dad had offered to help him run; of course, but despite how much hated the government and all they stood for, he knew that he would have hated himself more if he hid away when others needed him. "You were given a true gift," his Dad had once told him, holding his hands like they were made out of glass. "Don't squander it, ok. Can you do that for me Hawk?" He had been nine at the time, but his Dad's words were a driving force for him from that moment on, pushing him to be the best that he could be in everything that did.

Leaning back against the wall of the cargo hull, the lithe man let his hat droop over his face as he thought over the letter one last time and grin cheekily. Well maybe not everything...

* * *

"I have called you all here because I have some very important information that I need to tell you, here."

The stumbling words offered by the greying CO were laughable, but as a curly haired Trapper John McIntyre eyed the small group of people sitting in the office, he couldn't help but feel that if the war wasn't going to kill him, than the lack of good company defiantly is.

Frank and Margret practically shared one mutated body that didn't know whether it was a quivering mess of coward, or a domineering woman that produced more testosterone than most red blooded American men Trapper knew. Father Mulcahy was a good man, but also a God man, and probably wouldn't know a good joke unless it was sent from up above. 'Rader' O'Riely was a good kid, but just that, a kid; and their dear commanding officer, Mr Col. Henry Blake, was as useful outside an OR as a wet rag in the rain.

The camp had only been up and running for just over a week, but Trapper knew that unless he transferred, was sent home, or had a new form of interest in the camp, he was going to cry insanity by the end of the month. Glancing over from his perch near the window as both Margret and Frank straightened their backs, the curly haired blonde barely stopped his eyes from rolling, and turned his attention back to the blushing Blake.

"What is it Henry?"

Frowning at the blatant lack of respect to authority figures, Margret opened her mouth to most likely give him a good lashing, but was stopped by the next words out of Henry's mouth.

"Well," he fumbled, playing around with the papers on his desk in a clear show of nervousness. "I just received word from I-core. They've decided that any MASH units within fifty yards of the front line, are now required to have a minimum of four surgeons on post at any time."

Clapping her hands together, Margret smiled widely. "Oh this is just wonderful," she crowed, causing Trapper to wince at the pitch. "That's just what we need. It will even out the OR in emergencies, and the shifts in the Post-op won't be so long and strenuous for you all."

Her announcement was worded to include everyone, but Trapper knew that it was aimed more so towards her fellow Major; and if Frank's nervous giggles were anything to go by, so did he.

"Well it will be nice to have an extra surgeon on hand to shorten the work hours," the yellow bellied coward simpered, his beady eyes watering for extra effect. "Not that I'm struggling with the pressure," he added hastily, "It might just make it easier on the rest of you, that's all."

Giving in to his eyes desperate pleas, Trapper let them roll in their sockets before glaring down at the sorry excuse for a surgeon. "Frank, the only thing that would make the OR easier on me, would be for you to admit that you're not really a doctor, and leave the operating to the professionals."

Swelling up in indignation, both Frank and Margret glared up at the blonde; well Margret did, Frank just kind of looked constipated. "How dare you talk that way to a ranking officer," she screeched, causing Trapper to wonder if it was only his ears that were being violently murdered in their home.

Holding his hands up as a gesture of piece, Henry stared at his ranking officers and attempted a stern face. "Now, now, Houlihan, I'm sure McIntyre was just joking."

Knowing that he could say so much more, but would receive no back up, Trapper folded his arms across his chest and waited till Henry had the Head Nurse's feathers back down, before speaking once more. "So who's the next victim? Not another stiff I hope."

Shaking his head, Henry glanced down at the open folder on his desk, and flicked over a page. "No," he muttered, scanning over the page as he answered. "He's name is Benjamin Franklin Peirce. Born and raised in some little town in the middle of nowhere, did his residency at Boston, and is labelled here to be our new Chief Surgeon."

Gaping at the newest piece of information, Frank rounded on the CO. "But I'm Chief Surgeon!"

"Well not anymore," Henry shrugged, refusing to take his eyes off the paper folder he was still perusing. "This new guy's only a Captain, but his track record seems to have flagged him in all kinds of positives with the Army. Says that he's also only a draftee, apparently he was working in the hospital a town over from his hometown when they picked him up."

Watching as the two Majors blistered under the information, Trapper pushed himself up off the table he had been leaning against, and made his way towards the door. "Well if that's all-"

"And where do you think you're going?" Margret yelled out, her hand nearly being ripped off by a whining Frank. "You haven't been dismissed."

Not bothering to glance back, Trapper pushed open the door and shrugged non-Chantilly. "I have a new Bunkie to prepare for. Want to make a good impression after all."

* * *

The plane ride had been terrible, but the jeep ride was even worse. Groaning in agony as the blasted thing hit yet another pothole, Hawkeye glanced over at the driver and wondered if the man was hitting the stupid things on purpose.

"That's it straight ahead sir."

Pushing aside the aches in his body, Hawkeye turned to check out his new environment, and felt like groaning all over again. If there was no other reason to hate the army, then it was their abundant love for all things kaki. The uniforms, the buildings, heck even patches of the ground were covered in the atrocious, vomit inspired colour. Praying to the gods of medicine that the food wouldn't be kaki as well, Hawkeye grabbed hold of the side of his seat as the jeep rounded the camp sharply, and pulled up out the front of the administration building. Unfolding his long, gangly limbs, the brunette whimpered in agony as his spine straightened for the first time in twenty-four hours.

"Are you Captain Peirce?"

Opening his eyes beadily, Hawkeye turned around to face his greeter, but found nothing but air.

"Down here sir.'

Correcting his gaze, Hawkeye blinked repeatedly, and even had to rub his eyes to make sure that what he was seeing was really there. "Wow," he muttered at last, still staring down at the poor midget with inch thick glasses and a hat that looked more like a sock. "I didn't realize that the government reached as far as munchkin land. If I give you a hundred dollars, will you show me were the yellow brick road is?"

Not sure if he should be insulted or not, Radar decided to just ignore it and continue with what he was assigned to do. "Um- I'm meant to bring you to Col. Blake."

Nodding in defeat, Hawkeye grabbed his duffle bag and suitcase out of the back of the jeep, and followed the poor height deprived man into the only building that looked like it wasn't made out of cloth.

"Col. Blake, sir? Captain Peirce is here."

Walking into the room that was obviously the CO's office, Hawkeye let his eyes vaguely roam over the various nick-nacks and assortments, before turning to the man behind the desk. The fact that he was wearing a fisherman's cap was a dead giveaway, but as the brunette took the lack of posture, and laugh lines on the man's face, Hawkeye knew that this man was just as much a victim of the government as he was.

"Captain Peirce," Henry grinned, sticking his hand out in greeting. "It's a pleasure to have you at the 4077th. We're not much, but I'm sure that we'll do great things here."

Taking the offered hand, Hawkeye smiled back before lowering himself into a provided chair. "It's just Hawkeye," he offered. "And I'm sure that you will."

Grinning wider, Henry stood to make his way to his liquor cabinet, but stopped in his tracks when his door swung open, and Margret and Frank breezed in. "Yes Houlihan, Burnes?"

Smiling sweetly, Margret glanced down at the brunette currently decked out in complete army formals, and simpered softly. "We just thought that we would greet the newest member of the 4077th and offer to escort him around the compound."

Standing behind the Head Nurse, Frank nodded with each word.

Knowing what they were before they even opened their mouths, Hawkeye felt any hopes that he had of this place being somewhat decent drain away. Blake may be the one with the title, but it was these two that held the power. Standing from his seat, the brunette turned around to face the pair; Majors if their stars were anything to go by, and smiled charmingly. "I would love to join you," he smouldered, figuring that if he was going to be here, then he might as well start off on the right foot. "But unfortunately I don't do threesomes, I just end up feeling like a third wheel."

Gaping, the pair stared up at the man like he had just slapped them across the face, which could have been quite possible, given his choice of words. Waiting for the ever expectant hissy fit that history had taught Hawkeye would quickly follow, the brunette was surprised when instead of yelling, the doors opened once more, and a man with curly blonde hair, sarcastic hazel eyes and a set of lips that just begged to be laughing made his way in. But that was not the most startling bit of the man. Trying desperately not to laugh, bright blue eyes racked the slightly taller man's physic, and the spaghetti strapped cocktail dress with matching heels that covered it.

"I haven't missed the new guy?" the blonde quipped, his hand reaching up to straighten a strap that had flipped itself on his way in. "It's just, I was promised a date, and I refuse to be stood up."

Letting out a huge burst of laughter, Hawkeye crowed loudly as he moved forward and grabbed the man's hand in a delicate embrace. "And just who would you be fair maiden?"

Using his other hand to fan his face in an over dramatic way, the blonde stared down at the slightly shorted brunette, and grinned mischievously. "Trapper John McIntyre. And you handsome?"

"Benjamin Peirce," Hawkeye replied, grinning just as widely. "But you my dear can call me Hawkeye."

Snorting loudly, the pair glanced at each other once more, before breaking out in pearls of laughter; the rest of the room looking at the pair as if they were crazy. Pulling himself together somewhat, Hawkeye shouldered his items before holding out his arm in invitation. "May I escort you to your suite?"

Fluttering his hand once more, Trapper grabbed onto the arm and followed the brunette as he shuffled out of the room. "But what about my partner?"

Shrugging, Hawkeye glanced over at his newfound light in an uncertain situation, and smiled happily. "Well he'll just have to find a new partner," he winked. "Cause no blind fool would give you up; and lucky for you, I just happen to be one."

Watching as the pair left the office in hysterics, Henry, Margret and Frank turned to each other and shared the one simple thought...

...what chaos were those two capable of creating?


	2. Chapter 2

The walk from the Admin office to the tent Hawkeye would be calling home for the next couple of years was filled with laughter and understanding. Hitching the obviously loose strap back up onto his shoulder, Trapper took a quick step forward and opened the squeaky hinged door for his new comrade.

"I'd apologise for the mess," he offered, stepping in after the shaggy haired brunette. "But I haven't been here long enough to make one, so I wouldn't know what you're complaining about."

Taking in the mosquito netted walls, very basic furniture, and busted old heater, Hawkeye tossed his luggage down on an empty cot beside the door and huffed loudly. "Well, this just isn't going to do."

Flopping down on his own army issued cot, Trapper raised an eyebrow. "What isn't going to do?"

"I demanded a room with a seaside view." Knowing that he was getting a grin from the man still wearing stilettos, Hawkeye ran his finger across one of the shelves beside his bed and groaned in annoyance. "They couldn't even leave the dust on the shelves. That's it. This is the last time I stay with the Army. Next time I travel, I travel Navy."

Chuckling at the absurdity of it all, Trapper glanced up at his new bunk mate and grinned in a way that made most women swoon. "You're all right Hawkeye."

Grinning back, Hawkeye sashayed his way across the tent and sat down beside the blonde; placing his arm around his bare shoulders with gentleness that he only used on the girls. "You're not so bad yourself," he leered, his voice as deep as it could possibly go. "What do you say me and you forget the kiddies and go down to the five and dine?"

Unable to take it any longer, Trapper let loose a howl of laughter, his stomach ready to burst at the seam. Watching as the taller man doubled over in hysterics, Hawkeye tried valiantly to keep his own amusement inside, but failed miserably. Rolling around on the floor with tears in his eyes, whilst his new friend did the same; only on the cot, Trapper was the first to notice that they were no longer alone. Attempting to sit up, but failing dismally, Hazel eyes glanced up at the Major framed by the wooden doorway and panted heavily. "What's up Frank?" he gasped, his lungs still fighting for air as his body shivered from the leftover giggles.

Staring down at the two fully grown men, Frank twisted his fingers in his hands; a sure sign of nervousness and alarm. "I live here too McIntyre," he snapped once his mind finally connected to his mouth. "And I came to see if Captain Peirce would like to join Major Houlihan and myself at the Mess tent."

Wiping away the tears leaking from his eyes, Hawkeye finally pulled himself together and sat up on the cot properly once more. "Thanks, but no thanks Frank, I'm trying to savour the last memories of normal food before I find out just what the Army provides."

"That is a wise decision," Trapper agreed, still lying on the floor. "I wish I had thought of that before I ate here. I think the coffee alone killed my taste buds."

Sneering down at the Captain, Frank opened his lipless mouth to more than likely degrade the blonde, when Hawkeye caught glance of said person, and started laughing all over again.

Not sure what had set the brunette off this time, but really coming to like the addictive laughter that he held, Trapper crossed his arms behind his head, and eyed the man in amusement. "What's gotten into you?"

Heaving for breath, Hawkeye peeked down at the man on the floor once more, and started up all over again.

"Do you think he's all there?" Frank whispered loudly, eyeing the lanky Captain as if he was going to get up and charge at him should he be any louder.

Shrugging, Trapper removed an arm from behind his head, and used it to wack the doctor on the knee. "Oi, Hawk! You with us?"

Gulping loudly, bright blue eyes sparkled in merriment as he finally calmed down enough to talk somewhat coherently. "I knew that you were a flirt," he gasped, giggles still escaping from him even as he spoke. "But I didn't think that you were going to be that easy."

Not sure what he was talking about, Trapper glanced down at himself, and almost felt like blushing all over. During his brief hysteria, the rolling on the ground had forced the little black dress to ride up, revealing his milky white thighs and army issued boxers. Seeing the amusement in the situation and listening as the brunette started up all over again, Trapper let out a couple of chuckles himself, and glanced up towards the surprisingly silent Major still standing at the door.

Gaping down at the blonde, Frank felt his eyes bulge and jaw drop. How he had missed the man's state of undress he would never know, but as he stood there like a statue watching the sins of others, the Major knew that there was no hope for either of the new surgeons. This was a Man's Army, and these two degenerates were defiantly not men. Snapping out of his revere as Peirce let out a rather loud giggle, Frank ignored the feeling of his face burning in embarrassment, and quickly hastened his exit. Just wait until he told Margaret about this!

Peeling his eyelids open just enough to watch the Major leave, Hawkeye took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Glancing down at the taller man still chuckling, blue eyes sparkled in a way that the East-coaster thought that they never would again after seeing the miserable draftee letter. "I suppose we should go and get some food," he muttered after a moment, his stomach finally reminding him that he hadn't eaten since he had left Tokyo.

Nodding in agreement, Trapper forced himself into a sitting position and glanced down at the dress currently hugging his midsection. "Mind if I change first? I suddenly feel rather exposed for some strange reason."

Taking in the ruffled appearance and cocky grin, Hawkeye could barely hold back a snort before his giggles started up once more.

* * *

"I'm telling you Sir, McIntyre will bring this whole establishment down; and from what I saw in that tent, Peirce won't be much better."

Stabbing a hunk of cooked meat that had the texture and taste of tree bark, Henry frowned down at his meal for a moment, before glancing back up at the two Majors sitting beside him and mentally sighing. "What do you want me to do about it Frank? We need every available man we can get, and if that means putting up with a couple of regulars, than you can bet your nanny that that's what we're going to do."

Whimpering, Frank turned to the blonde sitting beside him for help, but found that her attention was focused elsewhere. "Margaret?"

Motioning for the brunette to be quiet, Margaret motioned towards the door. "Here they come."

Trying to not be obvious; but failing wonderfully, the trio watched as one as the two Captains sauntered into the Mess tent, capturing the attention of everyone there. Gesturing for the new comer to step in first, Trapper guided him over to the serving station and shoved a tray into his hands.

"As you can see, we have all the delicacies." The blonde's light hearted tone could be heard saying. "Left over surplus from previous wars, salted meat from animals that lived before we did, and heated mud making itself out to be coffee but not really fooling anybody."

Holding their breaths, the crowd listened on in suspense. It was one of the many tests that each newbie went through, and depending on how the new Captain would react to not just the food, but the flippant way Trapper had spoken, would tell the rest of the unit what type of Officer he would be.

Lifting the tray that now held a green mush that was supposedly strained beans to his nose, Hawkeye took a quick sniff and gagged violently. "That is worse than my cousin's growing sock collection," he scoffed loudly, lowering the tray away from his face as far as he could. "I've smelt dumpsters in Boston that were better than that."

Shrugging, Trapper placed a filled mug on the brunette's tray, before grabbing one for himself. "Get used to it Hawk. This is what you've got to look forward to until you leave."

Unable to force his nose back into its wrinkleless state, Hawkeye started down at the food, and gagged once more. "If this is what they're spending all our tax dollars on, then I want a refund. Better yet, anyone that comes to me with food poisoning, I'll happily send home with a note to the morons in the Whitehouse."

Shaking his head, Trapper had a funny feeling that the man beside him was not joking, but felt that it was pointless to point out that the Army would only send the poor person back with their own note saying 'Suck it up and get back to work'. Glancing around the tent at all the interested people staring at them, the blonde knew that there was no way that he could keep his new source of entertainment to himself for the entire war, but felt that he shouldn't have to share so soon after finding it. Opening his mouth to suggest that maybe they should eat outside seeing as it was rather crowed in the tent, the Captain was blocked when the shrill tones of Margaret Houlihan rang through the air, inviting them over.

Glancing at the blonde at his side, Hawkeye made a face as if to say 'Damn, and there goes the rest of my appetite', before slinking his way over to the bench; Trapper following a step behind.

Sitting down the trays on the table, Hawkeye and Trapper sat down across from the two Majors and forced themselves to not look at the grinning pair.

"I hope that you've settled in nicely. It's so nice to have another Doctor on staff," Margaret gushed, her cheeks tinged with pink as she eyed the strapping young doctor across from her. "Tell us about yourself Captain. Where did you study?"

Chocking down the piece of meat that threatened to lodge itself in his throat, Hawkeye took a large gulp of the most vile drink he had ever had. If the war didn't kill him, then the food was defiantly going to give it a shot. Shrugging at the question, Hawkeye stabbed a potato in thought. "I studied and did my residency in Boston. I specialize in cardiovascular, but my dad was a GP and before that a neuro, so I've got a rather broad teaching."

"That is fascinating," Margaret smiled, showing off every one of her bright white teeth. Rolling his eyes at the display, Trapper loaded his fork with some meat and shoved it in his mouth before snarking. "You might want to find out if he's attached before you dig your claws in any further Houlihan."

Snapping around to glare at the blonde, Margaret pursed her lips, but was halted in any tongue lashing when the brunette across from her chocked on his food once more.

"Attached?" Wheezing for air, Hawkeye began to wonder if his face was red from lack of air, or the hilarity of the conversation. "The closest I've ever come to being attached to anything, was when I super-glued myself to the spare tyre of my bike. My last girlfriend said that I was more attached to my medical journal than I was her! My own dog was more distraught over my dad going away for a weekend than me leaving home for good."

Grinning in amusement, Trapper glanced over at the slightly shorter man, and snorted. To everyone else at the table, it looked like the brunette was being serious, but Trapper knew better. He had seen the spark in the man's eyes many times before in the mirror. It was much easier to joke around and make everyone question your sanity, than it was to confront said sanity and see just where you measured up.

Sending his own glance towards the curly haired man on his right, Hawkeye gave him a barely there wink, before continuing on with his theatrics. He knew that Trapper would see him for what he really was, and for the first time since his mother had died, the lanky built doctor was ok with that.

"So, what does Hawkeye stand for?" Henry butted in, cutting off the Captain's tirade as he attempted to explain just how unattached he was. "It wasn't in your file, so I'm assuming that it's not part of your real name."

Pointing his fork at the OC, Hawkeye eyed the man in a way that at first glance looked menacing, but once you caught sight of the cheeky smirk, realised that the man was merely joking around. "Hawkeye is my name more so than any other; except Pierce. My dad has only read one book his entire life, and that was his favourite character."

"Last of the Mohicans," Trapper nodded, placing his cutlery on his tray as he finished his last bite. "Not a bad read, but I prefer something more recent; preferably with Betty Grable or Marilyn Monroe in the starring role."

Scandalised by such talk; and in front of a woman at that, Frank blubbered around thinking of what to say, but stopped when the sound of choppers hit their ears. Glancing over at their new Chief Surgeon, Frank felt the cogs in his head turn slowly. If he could prove how inexperienced Pierce was, then maybe he could get his title back. All he would have to do was show the Col how inexperienced the Captain was, maybe even come in and save a patient, and the position would be as good as his. Grinning at the thought, beady little eyes turned to the brunette rushing out the door behind the rest of the group, and sniggered gleefully.

Yes, he would get his rightful title back, and the respect that deserved.

Just you wait and see.

* * *

Daniel Pierce was a fine doctor and brilliant surgeon. His colleges would often refer to him like a coach would their star player. In his prime, he would do the impossible and save the patients that many had already dismissed as incurable, before moving on and doing it all over again. It was a powerful gift that he had never squandered or left to waste, and as his son grew and displayed his own abilities to harness the same gift, Daniel did everything in his power to help his child along.

Pressing down on a blood soaked cloth covering a badly severed artery, Hawkeye glanced around the compound for any morgue men available, when he caught sight of the chaos that was the 4077th. When he had been assigned the unit, the brunette knew that they were only just formed, and most had no idea of what was going on, but this was ridiculous! Nurses ran around like headless chooks, checking wounds that were superficial compared to half the others. Morgue men stood around with rolls of bandages in their arms, unsure of what they were suppose to do let alone where to stand. Trapper was in a similar position as him, trying get help but at the same time unable to move lest the wound he was holding leaked any further. Margaret was yelling at everyone, but seemed to be doing nothing helpful, whilst Frank stood beside her nodding as if he were the one speaking. Knowing that Henry was with Radar trying to get in contact with I-core to find out what was going on, Hawkeye decided quickly that they were going to get nowhere soon and lose a lot of people if they didn't do something fast.

Latching onto the closest person to him, Hawkeye dragged the startled nurse onto the ground with him, and forced her into position so that her hand was securely over the wound. "Whatever you do, don't move," he grounded out, staring at the shocked woman until he got a nod in return.

Wiping as much blood off his hands as he could, Hawkeye stood quickly and let loose a high pitched whistle. Startled by the sound, the group turned as one and faced the brunette. Making sure that he had everyone's attention, Hawkeye raised his hand and pointed at Margaret. "Houlihan! Get your nurses into gear. I want the OR set up and ready to go in five minutes. Frank go scrub up and get ready, I need someone to take over from Trapper over there; Trap you stay out here and help me figure out who's got what. I want this one here on my table first, that one there on Trap's. Someone get Blake and tell him I want him in Pre-Op now! Anyone standing around with bandages go put them away and come back. We have a lot of wounded, and I don't want them out here in the dust any longer than they have to be."

The stillness of the camp was not what he wanted to see. Feeling the frustration of their incompetence overwhelm him, Hawkeye stared at the idiots gaping at him, and roared. "Now People!"

Jumping, Margaret was one of the first to jolt out of it, and head off to do what the Captain had ordered. "You three stay out here and assist Pierce and McIntyre, the rest of you are in the OR."

Sidestepping the patents, the Morgue men followed the nurses into the building to put away the supplies, before coming back out and starting the movement of the patients into the Pre-Op. Making sure that everyone was doing as told, Pierce glanced down at the slightly pale nurse still holding onto the patient's leg, and sighed. Why did he have a funny feeling that he was going to end up with at least one fainter by the end of the day?

* * *

Showing the draftee how to hold the wound before moving on, Trapper made his way over to the next injured man, and was slightly surprised to see the man was mostly coherent. The unit had been in the trenches when a series of grenades had been tossed in with them, and from what he had seen so far, the blonde hadn't been expecting anyone to really be on this plane of consciousness. "They," he grinned, hoping to set the soldier's mind at ease. "Looks like you've been having fun."

Attempting to laugh, but coughing half way through, the solider stared up at the blonde with big brown eyes and twitched the corners of his mouth. "Oh real fun. I was getting worried that you lot might have been too, considering how you were taking your time."

Lifting the badly wrapped gaze to check the wound under it, Trapper felt like snapping back but thought better of it.

"Well not you," the soldier continued, still staring up at the doctor as he did so. "But that other doctor that was standing over there, he walked past me three times and didn't even look down."

Chuckling darkly, Trapper placed the gauze back into position and patted the soldier on the shoulder. "Well, that's Frank for you. You're going to be fine, just be on liquids for the next week or so."

Catching the lips stretch even wider at the news, Trapper was just about to move on, when a firm a hand landing on his stopped him.

"You have a good CO," Brown eyes muttered, the day draining his energy. "To be able to get everyone back into position that quickly? That shows true leadership."

Raising an eyebrow, Trapper glanced across the small area they were in, and caught sight of the lanky brunette kneeling in the dirt to get a better look at a soldier's wound. "Who, Hawk? Nah, he's not our CO."

Showing his confusion, the soldier waited for an explanation.

"He's the new guy."

* * *

"Scalpel."

Eyeing the latest wound; shrapnel to the chest, Hawkeye took the instrument in hand and very carefully made his way into the faceless man's chest. They were four hours in, and he was up to his third patient. After stopping the bleeding and getting the artery closed back up, his first patient had been deemed in the clear, and moved aside for a younger man with shrapnel scattered through his lower torso and left lung.

"How are you going over there Hawk?"

Glancing up at the worried looking blonde, Hawkeye smiled at the concern, before turning his attention back to the patient and the forceps currently digging around inside his chest. "I feel like I should change my profession to seamstress. My talents are being highly unappreciated here."

Chuckling, Trapper pulled a needle through his latest patient and set to putting the soldier back together. "I know what you mean. Mind you, this is the first time I've had to really utilise them since I arrived."

Startled by the latest information, Pierce chucked a hunk of fragment into a kidney dish before glancing over at his fellow doctor. "You mean to tell me that this is the first lot of wounded this unit's seen? Oh, that would explain everything!"

Not sure if he should be insulted by the brunette's words, Frank glanced up from his table and frowned. "It is not. We've had plenty wounded come in since we set up camp."

Rolling his eyes, Trapper pulled his gloves off and motioned for the Morgue men to get him a new patient. "Scratches and boo-boos are not wounded Frank. The worst we've had in here before today, was a farmer that chopped his toe off with a shovel, and you know it."

Digging his way through a rather difficult spot to make sure that all the metal was found, Hawkeye sighed deeply. "So what you're saying," he huffed, his eyes sharpening as they caught sight of a rather tiny piece lodged between a rib and the diaphragm. "Is that you've had all this time to work out a system, and order if you will, and that display I caught outside was the best you could come up with?"

"We know what we're doing Captain," Margaret snapped back, displeased with both the way the newest surgeon was acting, and the way the unit had performed outside. "Everyone in this room has had medical training, some just as much as you."

Thinking back to the songs and games his Dad taught him when he was little, Hawkeye shook his head in amusement. "I highly doubt that Major."

Knowing that this was going to get ugly very quickly, Trapper did a quick check to make sure that his patient wasn't going anywhere, and glanced up to watch the show.

Bristling at the suggestion, Frank ignored the wound he was suppose to be checking, and glared up at the taller man. "I'll have you know, Pierce, that I am just as qualified, if not more so, than yourself. Why they made you Chief Surgeon I'll have no idea."

Finishing the last stitch, Hawkeye cut the thread before motioning for the man to be taken away and turning around to face the two rather offended Majors. "Ok, I'll admit that I don't know what your qualifications are, but you sure as hell don't know mine. Now if you want to have it out later, then fine; but as long as I'm Chief Surgeon, I will not have some petty argument take precedence over a person's life."

The silence in the room was very much like the silence that had fallen outside. Ignoring the gapping faces and shocked nurses, Hawkeye snapped off his gloves and turned to face his next patient, only to find the table clear. "Where's my patient?"

Standing at the door with a mask over his mouth and a clipboard in his hand, Radar swallowed loudly before answering. "That's it Sir. You finished the last one."

Not sure if he should be grateful or not, Hawkeye ripped his bloody gown off and headed towards the door. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the Mess tent."

* * *

It had been two hours since he had stormed out of the OR, and Pierce was starting to wonder if the Major idiots were going to come after him at all. Quickly becoming used to the taste of the overly bitter coffee, the brunette lifted the mug to his lips and took a gulp just in time to see the wonderful parade come barrelling through the doors.

"There he is Col," Houlihan's sharp tone rang out.

"Thank you Major, I can see that," Henry sighed, clearly feeling the beginnings of a headache set in.

Watching as the small group that consisted of the fisherman, the tweedles, a hobbit and Trapper came closer, Hawkeye briefly mused over the possibility of him escaping before they got any closer, but knew that it was fruitless. "Is this the part that I surrender? Cause I gotta warn you that I'm a horrible prisoner. I whine a lot, talk back to my captors, and will try and escape at every chance."

Grinning broadly, Trapper continued past the group and sat himself down beside the brunette. "That was some first rate cutting back there. I don't think I seen anything like it in years."

Lifting his mug in thanks, Hawkeye sculled the last of the drink. "What can I say? I have a gift."

"You can sure say that again." Sitting down at the head of the table, Henry stared at the newest member and grinned widely. "The way you organised everyone, and got through that leg wound so quickly-"

Sitting down on the opposite side of the table, Margaret and Frank glared at their would-be CO. "He completely disregarded any chain of authority," the Head nurse bellowed, causing many of the people in the tent to wince in pain. "He spoke out of line to a commanding officer, and he challenged a fellow surgeon in the OR."

Folding his arms across his chest, Trapper used them to prop himself up against the table, and frowned at the blonde headed woman. "I don't know what room you were in, but I didn't see anyone challenging anything in there."

"That's a lie, McIntyre, and you know it."

"Ok, hold up a second." Holding his hands up as a sign for them to all calm down, Henry waited until the two hot-blooded blondes simmered down, before glancing across to Pierce, and sighing. "What happened in today?"

Wishing that he could grab another cup of coffee and go back to his tent, Hawkeye glanced up at the Col with his bright blue eyes, and felt every emotion he had pushed aside during the day barrel forth until he could no longer hold it in. "What happened today?" he quipped, his hands stretching out on the table like spiders waiting to pounce. "You want to know what happed today? I walked into this camp thinking that there were at least some brain cells in this god forsaken hellhole, but clearly I was wrong."

Not liking the Captain's tone, Henry opened his mouth to tell him to calm down, but was cut off when the brunette held up his hand to shush him and continued.

"There were wounded lying around in the dirt and grime for far too long, while half of the camp ran around doing useless tasks and the other just stood there. You were nowhere to be found, the army brats were barking out orders that even the cook would know were useless, and the nurses were too busy checking for bumps and scrapes to be of any use. Trapper was the only one actually doing something useful, and he was pinned down holding a bleeder because everyone else couldn't be bothered to stop and relieve him."

"I was on the phone to I-core," Henry ground out, not at all liking the picture that was being painted for him. By the time he had reached the Pre-Op, the patients were already inside, and everything seemed to be running smoothly. "Every time we receive wounded, my orders are to phone it in-"

"And that's a great idea," Hawkeye stated, his words dripping with sarcasm. "From now on, every time we get wounded, you make that phone call, and then make another right after to explain to a soldier's mother that you couldn't get to her son in time, because you had to follow orders."

Glancing around at the small group around him, Hawkeye placed his hands on the table once more, and took a deep breath. "I don't care what the Army or the Government is calling this, we are in the middle of a war zone and as medical practitioners, it's our job to put those kids back together again, not to jump at every mindboggling command."

Mentally cheering at the lanky waif as he talked down not just Henry, but Margaret and Frank as well, Trapper nudged the brunette with his shoulder to get his attention, and grinned. "What do you suggest we do Hawk?"

Catching the hazel eyes dancing merrily, Hawkeye smirked in return. "Well first, we grab more coffee. Then we get to work."


	3. Chapter 3

_Mentally cheering at the lanky waif as he talked down not just Henry, but Margaret and Frank as well, Trapper nudged the brunette with his shoulder to get his attention, and grinned. "What do you suggest we do Hawk?"_

_Catching the hazel eyes dancing merrily, Hawkeye smirked in return. "Well first, we grab more coffee. Then we get to work."_

* * *

Watching as the unit were set through their paces for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the last three days, Hawkeye was ecstatic to note the vast improvement each person had made. After informing the rest of the officers of his plan, the blue eyed Captain had called forth all personnel and made clear just what he thought about their display.

"_If I wanted to join the circus, I would have stayed at home."_

"_Sir, we were only doing what we learnt in basic training-"_

"_And that is the first thing I want you to forget! From here on in, you do exactly what I'm about to show you."_

Trapper and Henry watched from the sidelines as the brunette had dragged the Morgue men around and gotten into fights with Houlihan over the nurses.

"Are you sure he's not Army?" Trapper muttered, as he eyed Pierce putting the team through yet another dry run. "He's ordering them around like no Civvy I've ever seen."

Shrugging, Henry beamed brightly as the team did exactly what they were supposed to do without a single mistake. "I dunno, but he's really getting them into tip-top shape."

Hearing the Col's words as he walked across the compound, Frank glanced over at the grinning Captain and scoffed loudly. "Please, I had everything under control before he showed up. There was nothing wrong with the way it was being handled."

Rolling his eyes, Trapper decided to ignore the sulking Major, and continue his Hawk Watch. The final drill was almost over, and from the way Pierce was beaming, it seemed to be going very well. The stretchers were taken into the triage in a quick and orderly fashion, as the nurses set up the OR under Houlihan's unyielding gaze. From the triage, the Morgue men carried the legless cots into the OR, placed them carefully onto the operating tables without knocking anything over, waited a moment, and then carried them back out and into the post-op.

Waiting until all the stretchers were through and the nurses had counted and sterilised the instruments, Hawkeye ushered the unit back out in the compound, clapping loudly. "Congratulations everyone, you have just graduated Doctor Pierce's three day's Medical Miracles College. Your certificates will be in the mail next week. I hope you enjoyed the wonderful experience."

Smiling happily, the unit gave a scattered applause before walking off to enjoy their down time and just relax. Making his way over to the three men standing next to the VIP tent, Hawkeye yawned loudly and rubbed his eye. "What I would give for a martini right now."

Patting the tuckered out man on the shoulder, Henry steered him towards his office. "I don't have gin, but I do have a nice bottle of bourbon that's just waiting to be cracked."

Grinning at the offer, Hawkeye glanced over his shoulder and eyed the curly blonde still standing where he had last seen him. "You coming Trap?"

Shrugging, Trapper mentally grinned at the thought of making a friend or two in this hellhole, and quickly marched forward to catch up. "Not like I have anything else to do."

* * *

"-So then I sez to the man, I sez, that's a big haul, where did you catch it? And he sez in the boot!"

Cracking up laughing, the three men rolled around in their seats, trying desperately not to spill their drinks, as the company clerk walked in. "Col Blake Sir? I need you to sign these."

Wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye, a red faced Henry glanced up at the nineteen year old and beamed brightly. "Radar!" he announced, grabbing another glass and filling it as he did. "Sit down with us and have a drink. Have you met Captain Pierce yet?"

Cringing at the title, Hawkeye turned his baby blues on the CO and wrinkled his nose. "Please Henry, I think since you bought me a drink, we're defiantly past formalities now. It's Hawkeye, or Pierce, or whatever the hell you want; just not Benjamin or Captain."

Nodding in understanding, Henry motioned for the curly haired teen to sit down between Trapper and himself at the edge of the table, and forced the glass into his hands.

"Oh, uh- I don't drink Sir."

Raising a hand to his mouth in feigned shock, Trapper glanced over at the other two men with wide brown orbs. "Did you hear that?"

Nodding, Hawkeye turned to his tent mate with genuine concern and murmured, "That I did. This is terrible."

"Dreadful."

"Inconceivable."

"Mind-blowi-"

"Enough!" Eyeing the two men sitting across from him, Henry waited until the pair mimed locking their lips, before turning back to the curly haired kid next to him and smiled warmly. "Now, have you ever drank before?"

Feeling his cheeks heat under the sudden attention, Rader glanced down at the table's leg and shook his head in embarrassment. "Uh- no Sir. See, no-one else on the farm drinks much, except my uncle and he always said that his type of drink would turn my insides into mush, so I always tried to stay away from it."

Henry blinked slowly, the muttered words floating through one ear and right out the other. Rolling his eyes at the stunned mullet impersonation their CO was performing, Trapper turned back to the wet eared teen. "He was probably right about it turning your insides to mush, kid, 'specially if it's the drink I think it was. But trust me, this lot's just fine."

"Oh, I don't know-"

"C'mon Radar," Hawkeye piped up, his focus back on the topic at hand and not the back of his hand itself. "I promise that we will discourage any unwanted actions your body may wish to partake upon whilst under the influence."

Shifting his glance from the table to the half full glass sitting in front of him, Radar fidgeted with his fingers nervously. "Well, if you're sure that my insides will be ok-"

Picking up the glass, the three men watched as the curly haired teen raised the rim to his lips and began to tilt it upward. Pinning the Corporal down with a sharp stare, Hawkeye almost cried out in vain when the teen suddenly stiffened. Tilting his head to the side, Radar turned to the three officers with a look of sympathy and worry on his face, and placed the glass back down on the table.

"Choppers."

Watching as the brunette raced out of the room to announce the incoming wounded, Hawkeye turned to his bunk mate and sighed loudly. "I guess happy hour is officially over."

Nodding in agreement, Trapper shuffled around the table and placed an arm under Henry's to help him up. "Looks like we'll have to corrupt the kid another day. C'mon, can't let Frank have all the fun."

* * *

As the last stitch went into his last patent, Hawkeye was happy to note just how smooth the session had gone compared to the one before. Nurses had everything prepped and ready to go before they had even stepped foot into the OR, corpse-men had the injured coming in as quickly and silently as he had shown them; and to top it all off, the doctors were exactly where they were they were needed and not off standing around outside or on the phone to I-core.

Snapping his gloves off, blue eyes scanned the room as the other three men continued to save the lives and limbs of the soldiers on their tables.

"Does anyone need an extra hand?" he called out, not quite ready to leave the adrenalin rush only saving lives could produce. "Or a foot? I'm not fussy."

Glancing up from the chest his hands were buried in, Trapper eyed the brunette for a second. "Yeah, I've got a chest here, and some shrapnel that wants to play hide-n-seek."

Stepping forward, Hawkeye took one glance at the man and whistled. "You weren't kidding," he muttered, holding his hands out for Margret to place a fresh set to glove on. "Have you checked under the diaphragm? I've noticed with a few of them now that if they're jostled too much then the fragments like to slide in under there."

Shaking his head, Trapper gently moved the piece of muscle aside so the brunette could get a set of forceps into it. Slowly moving the metal arms across, bright blue eyes glittered in triumph as he grabbed onto a shard and slowly pulled it out.

"Aha!" he cried out, holding the twisted metal up to the light. "Thought that you could sneak away you cheeky little bugger."

Shaking his head in amusement as the shard was discarded, Trapper waited for the Head Surgeon to motion that there was nothing else in the section before lowering the muscle once more and starting on the next section.

"I've gotta admit Hawk," he muttered, eyes narrowing in on a glitter sitting just above the soldier's right kidney. "I've never seen a Doc quite like you."

Feeling his cheeks heat under the praise, Hawkeye mentally thanked the medical profession for face masks. "It's nothing really," he tried to shrug it off. "Just my abundance of greatness leaking over the edges, that's all. My mom once said that if I didn't become a surgeon, then I would have been a great tracker."

"Oh, really?"

Nodding, Hawkeye barely noticed the others finish up and slowly leave. "She was a great woman. Everyone in the town was jealous of her, but she never let that get to her. She told me that people who felt jealousy were to be pitied, for it showed just how much they valued themselves."

Closing up the last wound, Trapper glanced up at the man standing across from him. "She sounds like a wonderful person. You'll have to introduce me to her one day."

The change in the brunette's stance was almost instant. Motioning for the patent to be taken away, Hawkeye glanced up at the blonde and smiled sadly. "Not too soon I hope. She died when I was little."

Trapper could tell that it was a topic his new friend did not wish to dwell on. The death of a family member was always difficult, but the loss of one at that age was one that the blonde knew lasted for the rest of your life. Rounding the table, the older man wrapped his arm around the brunette's shoulders and guided him towards the flimsy Prep room doors. "So you're just going to have to deal with my sorry arse until then."

Laughing lightly at the attempt of humour, Hawkeye wrapped his own arm around the blonde's waist and continued out the doors. "I'm sure that I can do that."


End file.
